


Why

by ShawnBasset



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Angst, Breakup, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Rating for later chapter(s), Reworked, Slight OOC, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShawnBasset/pseuds/ShawnBasset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rework/Repost from FF.net<br/>When Haruka and Makoto's relationship turns for the worst, Makoto finds himself unable to reach out for help. Rin stumbles upon the truth accidentally/intentionally, and offers to help Makoto rebuild from the ground up. Can a new life, a new job and a new man restore Makoto to the carefree, gentle soul he was? Slight AU, set a number of years in the future. Seijuurou/Makoto, former Haruka/Makoto (sorry to all those shippers in advance.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valeforwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeforwings/gifts).



> So I wound up writing the original version of this fic on a whim between a late night and an afternoon. It's rough, to say the least, but at least I got the gist of it together. I'm re-writing it as a chaptered story this time, and as I'm re-writing it I'm trying my best to get the gaping plot holes and continuity errors fixed, so bear with me. Likely won't be a regularly updated thing, but should be done in a reasonable amount of time.
> 
> Also, I wanted to dedicate this to the wonderful valeforwings for having introduced me to this wonderful little ship with her fic Always. Thanks for showing me the rabbit hole, and subsequently pushing me down it.

Prologue

 

_Haru_

 

Falling in love with your best friend was never going to be easy. I’ve always been told that hindsight is 20/20, and never really put any stock in the saying until now. As I’m sitting on this boulder by the sea, feeling the sharp sting of spray on my face, it’s made exceptionally clear to me that there a lot of things I have never put any stock in over the course of my life. Principally among which was my relationship with my childhood best friend, Makoto Tachibana.

For years, he was by my side: my staunchest supporter, my closest confidante, my strength, my gravity, the love of my life. And I ruined it. I broke it beyond repair, as I fear I will with everything. As I reflect upon my loss, my error, I’m acutely aware of the pain in my chest. I feel my nose prickle, I feel my eyes well up with tears, but I can’t will them to fall. I can’t will myself to grieve properly for my loss because I know that I’m the only one to blame for it. I’m the one who caused the rift between us in the end, and I’m the one that drove him away.

Of course, the only thing I feel I truly understand is the water. It’s calming, soothing, serene and also terrifying and capricious in one. It takes no time at all for it to be cradling you in its hold only to wrap its tendrils around your lungs and take your life. I know that if you enter it fearless, it can’t do anything to you. It’s this cavalier attitude that got me where I am right now, reflecting by the seaside, hurting.

Our relationship felt like just the natural progression of our history together. He’d been with me since we were in elementary school all the way through high school and into our adult lives. Sure, it took me long enough to realize he loved me and I him, but the important thing was that we got there, right? He was there the whole time, to hold me when I was hurting, to comfort me after nightmares, to deal with my peculiar diet and love of any kind of water. He was patient, gentle, indulgent. He was the Makoto we all know and love, and he was mine. And now he isn’t.

I can feel the hole he left inside me, that I made him leave. The hole feels raw, ragged, like I’ll never be able to replace what is missing from it. And I won’t, because there is nobody like him.

Our early time was of pure bliss. His gentle love and character prompted me to become more open myself, to reach out to others like he did. I was never able to draw people out like he does, though. I always felt guilty about being so insular in comparison with him, but the fondness in those soft green eyes when he looked at me made me forget my troubles. It was magic: his touch dispelled my tensions, his words shattered my doubts. His love built me up, and I loved him all the more fiercely for it.

As time went on, though, I felt guilty having taken so much from him with so little to offer in return. I’ve always been sparing with my emotions to the point of coldness. Where Makoto is sunny and warm, I tend to fade in the background behind him, as though I am unworthy of his disposition. The longer we were together, the more I resented my inability to reciprocate his attentions and to return his love in a manner he deserved. Makoto deserves the finest of everything in this world, where I had nothing of the sort to give. Don’t get me wrong, I love him with everything I am, but I’ll never be able to express it and provide with my love the way he does with everyone and everything around him.

It’s because of this that I withdraw into myself, feeling unworthy of such a remarkable person. I want to make myself insignificant, to quietly pull myself away from him so that I’m not the reason he’s hiding his light from the rest of the world. While all I strive for is to be free, Makoto is the one who deserves it. I know that all I am to him is what’s keeping him stuck in place, a boat anchor firmly buried in the ocean floor.

I grieve not just for our relationship, but for what I’ve done to him as a result of us being together. Now, I can’t help but feel guilty every time he kisses me when he comes home from work. I can’t help but feel unworthy when we make love. I can’t help but feel like I don’t belong when we sleep together, his arms circling around me and pulling me to his chest. My yearning to be free is now because Makoto deserves it more than I do.

And while communication was never a strong suit of mine, I would occasionally open up to him about my fears, that he would find someone more deserving of his love, more able to return it in equal measure, and that he would leave me. He always made me feel like I belonged in those moments, made me feel more secure in myself, and could always bring me back to him. And yet, I would withdraw back into myself, my heart aching when I would hear Makoto crying quietly in the night, afraid to wake me with the pain I’d caused him. It was this that affected me most, that I could never find the courage to address with him and within myself.

Earlier this afternoon, I came home prepared to face my fears with Makoto properly to find our apartment – our home – bereft of any trace that he had lived there with me. It was Makoto’s turn to withdraw; not within himself, like I do, but to fade completely from my life. I walked through the space, feeling as though I was a ghost in an existence that wasn’t ours, silently absorbing everything that felt  _wrong_ . Despite the furniture of mine that is left, his absence is palpable. The jar of his that sat on the kitchen counter holding wooden spoons is gone, the utensils it once held are neatly put away in the drawer. The brightly coloured tea towels are missing from the holder on the wall. His various cat figurines are gone from our dresser, his cologne bottle and toothbrush conspicuous in their absence from the vanity in the bathroom. The only things that confirm our coexistence is the small square of paper on the kitchen table, ink smudged where tears fell, that bears three small, painful words in Makoto’s neat, meticulous writing:  _This is goodbye_ . Underneath the paper lie Makoto’s key, and the plain steel band he used to wear on his right hand.

 

Suddenly, the feeling of absence is crushing, suffocating, and all I can do is pull out a chair from the table and sit, tracing the grain in the worn wood and re-read his note over and over again, the reality failing to sink in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rin digs.

Chapter Two

 

Makoto

 

Finally, work was over. I punched my timecard and shuffled over to the door, grabbed my jacket off the hook, and pushed open the door. As I walked down the street on my way home, I couldn’t help but feel like I should be more relieved to be done for the day, to spend the rest of my evening leisurely with my boyfriend. Instead, I felt like I was going to work another job, dreading the time I would have to spend there. I let my breath out in a huff, running a hand through my hair as I trudged back to my apartment.

My phone buzzed and clanked in my pocket. I pulled it out to see an unexpected text message from Rin of all people.

_What r u doing tonite? Drinks?_

_Sure, had nothing planned. See you soon?_

I won’t deny that I was relieved to have Rin invite me out. It saved me from having to try and hold what was always a one-sided conversation or deal with Haru’s cold, empty silences. As I thought back on it, though, it hadn’t always been like this.

Back when we weren’t dating, Haru and I would stay silent most of the time, playing video games, doing homework, swimming. We always had something to keep us otherwise occupied, and kept the silences companionable. Even when we started dating, it was enough for us to hold hands on the couch watching movies, or to spoon in bed. He would make supper, and I would catch up with my parents on the phone. Now, though…

Now, Haru builds silences like brick walls. He maintains a state of nothingness as if he wants me to keep away, to drive me from the room with its oppressiveness. He had never been what anyone would call warm or outgoing, but he’d never tried to shut me out like this. At first, I’d thought he was just in a bad mood, and it would pass soon enough. However, with time, I began to feel as though I was being given the silent treatment for something I had done, except I could never figure out what it was I was meant to have done.

As months melded into each other, Haru withdrew into himself, leaving me in the lurch. I figured I’d power through it with a smile on my face, like I usually do, and come out stronger and that much the better for it. Since Rin texted me though, I was only too eager to get home, get changed and get out as soon as I could. Before I knew it, I was at my building and walking up the stairs to our small, second-floor home. I unlocked the door, and slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief I didn’t know I had been holding when I saw Haru’s shoes weren’t by the door. I quickly got changed from my work clothes, ran a brush over my head, gave myself a cursory glance in the mirror and promptly left, eager to get out again and slamming the door in my haste.

 

I stood outside the bar Rin said he would meet me at, knowing full well I was early in my need to get out of the apartment and its suffocating atmosphere. I had been working any shift I could get lately just so I wouldn’t have to spend more time there than absolutely necessary, even going to visit my parents overnight for some reprieve. They were always glad for the visits, but I began to realize they were suspicious of my visits after a while, prompting me to reduce their frequency in an effort to avoid uncomfortable conversations and pointed questions. Working crazy hours had begun to show on my face, as my glance in the mirror before leaving had told me. I looked tired, haggard even. My hair was limp, and lines were beginning to show between my eyebrows. When did I start frowning so much?

Work had been rough. Customers were in bad moods, I was misunderstanding their requests, leading to their dissatisfaction. Generally, I prided myself on being the consummate problem-solver, but after today it left me questioning that belief. I found myself retreating to the back room to calm myself down after a particularly riled-up man had come in, debating my competence and asking whether or not I was even capable of understanding his needs. After he’d left, I sat on a box to try and still my shaking hands against a blooming headache. Sure, drinks with Rin probably wouldn’t be the most helpful thing for the pain in my head, but I hoped that it would at least help to distract me from the shambles my life was in. I checked my watch, hoping it would be closer to the time Rin and I had scheduled to meet at, and was interrupted by my name being shouted.

“Makoto!” called Rin, waving with a small smile on his face as I turned towards my name. The months in which I hadn’t seen him had treated him well, I saw. His face was vibrant, his smile genuine. His hair had been cut shorter, but still hung into his face slightly. He’d been training harder, too, judging by how his clothes fit. Meanwhile, I had been skipping meals and working like a madman, with little time left to me for exercise, and I saw myself becoming skinny and bony rather than lean and lithe. I hitched up a smile and waved back. As Rin drew closer, his smile faltered a bit. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know, work’s been super busy,” I offered half-heartedly. I’d begun to feel slightly regretful for having accepted Rin’s invitation, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be particularly good company. “Long hours and stuff. You? You look like you’ve been keeping busy too.” Rin’s smile dropped completely, his brows drew in concentration, scrutinizing my face.

“You need to stop working so much. You look exhausted,” he said quietly once he’s come up to the place where I’d been waiting for him on the sidewalk. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at me. “Have you been getting  _any_ sleep?”

“Plenty,” I answered shortly, and perhaps a little too harshly judging by the surprised look I got from Rin. I immediately feel foolish for having bit at him like that. “Sorry, work was a mess today,” I said by way of apology, wringing my hands. Rin shrugged nonchalantly.

“Nothing to chase work blues away like booze, right?” said Rin, his small smile returning, but not meeting his eyes like it had before. I followed him into the bar, a favourite of ours when we were younger and still in university. Our usual table in the back far corner near the bar was empty, and Rin headed there automatically. “Just like old times,” he reflected and I smiled weakly as I pulled out a chair and sank heavily into it. A waitress with shiny dark hair and a skirt that was entirely too short came over from the bar to take our order.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” she said, altogether too chipper for my liking. Rin fiddled with the menu, still deciding.

“Double gin and tonic, please, with lime and light on the tonic,” I said, drawing raised eyebrows from Rin, who ordered a simple pint of domestic draught.

“Since when in the hell do you drink hard liquor?” said Rin, slightly incredulous. “You were such a lightweight before.”

“Have done for a while,” I replied, shrugging. “I go out sometimes with the guys from work.” The last statement wasn’t entirely a lie. I would simply go out by myself after work in an effort to say that at least I wasn’t drinking by myself. Lord knew Haru was never particularly present company.

“I’m surprised, but I’m actually more impressed I think,” admitted Rin, with a half smile. “I never thought you’d ever warm up to drinking.”

“It took me a while, but I got there,” I said, with my own little half smile as the waitress returned with our drinks. “So what prompted this?” I asked, waving between us with one hand as I squeezed the wedge of lime into my drink and pushed it under the ice with the cocktail stirrer. Rin took a small sip of his beer, and set it down slowly onto a coaster, his other hand tracing the grain in the worn wooden tabletop, his eyes fixed on mine.

“It’s been five months, Makoto,” he said slowly, gravely. My mind rolled backwards, trying to think of when it was we actually saw each other, and realized with a sharp stab of guilt that he’s right. “Considering how often we used to see each other, I wanted to see what you were up to. Nagisa and Rei ask about you all the time too, you know.” My gaze dropped to the table, watching intently as the condensation on my glass traveled downwards to soak into the cardboard coaster. I didn’t have an answer for him, and wasn’t ready for the question he asked.

"Is…is there something going on between you and Haru?” asked Rin, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. It’s not so much the question that scared me, but the way he asked it. I felt my throat close, my eyes prickle and my chest squeeze in on itself. I wanted to shrink away, hoping to escape Rin and his scrutiny, willing him to stop asking. I looked away from the table, and my hands abandoned my barely-touched drink to fall into my lap, wringing themselves almost painfully as I tried to keep myself from breaking down.

“What did he do to you?” came Rin’s next quietly pointed question, his gaze intense. As soon as the query had left his mouth, I couldn’t do it any more. I took in a ragged breath, and bolted from the table, knocking over my chair in the process, barely aware of Rin calling after me as I made to escape the bar. I didn’t make it more than a few steps out of the door before I felt an arm grab my elbow and pull me around. I tried to pull away, but Rin had a hold on my forearms, and looked me straight in the eye.

“Makoto, hey, it’s OK,” he said, as he drew me against him, my body wracked with uncontrollable sobs as all of my repressed tension came to the surface. It was both painful and wonderful to feel the guilt, the sadness, the misery bubble up and be known, freed from my self-imposed efforts to contain them. My arms worked around Rin to hold myself up as I cried into his shoulder, and I could feel him daring any of the passers-by on the sidewalk to say anything about the situation. I knew it was difficult for him to deal with emotion at the best of times, but I was also grateful that I had him there. His hands were rubbing circles into my back. “It’s OK,” he repeated, and I so badly wanted to believe him.

After I’d managed to calm down somewhat, I pulled away from him, eyes stinging from the tears and my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry you saw that,” I murmured to Rin, who shook his head adamantly.

“No, Makoto. Don’t ever feel sorry for that,” he said firmly. “I just wish you would have told me – any of us – sooner. When did this start happening?” I couldn’t help but feel another pang of guilt when Rin mentioned the rest of our friends. He was right, of course. I should have been smart enough to have at least told somebody about my worries, my issues with my relationship. “Look, let’s go back to my place, and we’ll talk some more about it there.”

The walk back to Rin’s apartment passed by in a blur, both of us remaining silent the whole way. We got to Rin’s building and took the elevator to the eighth floor as announced by the cool female voice and entered Rin’s spacious and tidy home. He all but forced me to take a seat on his couch, and he sat on the loveseat’s edge, arms braced on his knees to face me, his face expectant.

I took a deep breath and told him, leaving out nothing. I watched as his face went from firmly interested, to shocked, to downright angry.

“And how long as this been happening? How long have you been feeling this way?” he all but demanded, his voice hard and eyes fierce.

“About six and a half months ago,” I figured, not quite sure. I hadn’t even really noticed that Rin and I hadn’t seen each other five months, so I had to guess. Rin hissed.

“Can you call in sick tomorrow? You need the time off to rest. You can have the spare bedroom tonight, and you can stay here as long as you want,” offered Rin, his voice thick with anger. I felt my face heat up, and my gaze dropped back down to my hands in my lap.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” I started, and was promptly cut off by Rin holding up his hand.

“You know I don’t, Makoto. So don’t try to get out of it because it’s the ‘polite thing to do’,” interrupted Rin, turning his fierce gaze on me. “Just please let me help you. I almost lost you back when we were in high school, I have no intention of us falling apart like that again.” His voice softened, startling me into accepting. “I have some spare clothes you can wear tomorrow before we can go to your place to get you an overnight bag or something.”

My brain made the connection with a jolt. Rin wanted me to break up with Haru. Rin was willing to _help_ me break up with Haru. The realization made me well up with tears, and my inadequate “thank you” was so thick with emotion that I was impressed despite myself that Rin was able to make it out.

“Now call work and say you won’t be in tomorrow.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still sorry, Mako/Haru shippers.
> 
> (I'm actually not that sorry.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rin plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. Chapter three. When I first set out to re-write this fic, I had no intention of jumping POVs so much but here we are. This one was hard to write and is likely very much OOC, but I like to think they've grown up over time (at least that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it). Lemme know what you think?

Chapter Three

 

Rin

 

Someone had replaced my blood with kerosene and set it on fire. My skin itched and burned, and set me to restlessness. After Makoto’s admission to me outside the bar, I knew I had to keep it together for his sake, and it was a struggle I barely won. Anger boiled up in me at the unfairness of the situation, empathy surging through me for Makoto and his pain, his isolation. And as much as I didn’t want to make him feel alone, I needed to leave and get something accomplished before he woke up.

Last night, Makoto had poured his heart out to me, how he and Haru had been so happy, so fulfilled in each other at first, and how things had changed. It was as he told me that I realized this wasn’t the first time this had happened to either of us. Even when we were younger, Haru withdrew deeply into himself after I had left for Australia, and that had taken ages to recover what we’d had between us. As I reflected on our pasts, I realized with a sinking sense of guilt that Makoto had been caught in the middle of that conflicted apathy as well, and made a point of telling him so, and apologized at length. True to form, though, he smiled a worn-out but still genuinely gentle smile at me, and told me it was okay.

It wasn’t. After Makoto got off the phone and left a message saying he wouldn’t be in to work the next day, I helped him settle in to the guest bedroom and went to bed myself only to find myself thinking too much and unable to shut off my brain. Thoughts bombarded me as I looked back on Makoto’s history between the three of us, how he always seemed to get caught in the undertow of self-loathing cast off between Haru and I. I thought about how this would have affected him, and yet still came away in awe of that innate ability to put others before him and to always be there, supporting his friends who needed and took everything they could get, and never asked for anything in return. 

Through the prickling in my eyes and the pain in my chest, I then resolved to help him restore his life in any way that I could. I knew a few things needed to be done, and anything else could be figured out along the way. First, though, he needed to get out of that apartment.

I got out of bed, and wandered over to my desk. I pulled out a calendar I wasn’t using and a few sheets of paper and started writing, planning the potential repossession of Makoto’s life. As the papers filled up, I revised and re-wrote a few steps, pulled out business cards from work contacts, Googled addresses and wrote down phone numbers and sent off countless emails. Hours later, I filled in individual dates with the finalized steps, sat back, and looked at the clock. It was just after six in the morning, which told me from past experiences that Haru was likely awake already, and steeled my resolve.

I went down the hall to see if Makoto was still asleep. The door was left open a crack, and the thick curtains were still drawn tight, leaving the room pitch-dark. I pulled the door closed without latching it, went back to my room and changed out of my pajama pants into some running shorts. I padded into the kitchen, left a note for Makoto that I had gone out for a run in case he woke up earlier than I’d thought, toed on my running shoes and headed down to the parking lot to my car.

The drive to Makoto and Haru’s apartment wasn’t long, and it took even less time due to the lack of the city’s usual rush-hour traffic. I came to an almost violent stop in front of the building, and walked up the stairs to their apartment. I knocked sharply on the door, and didn’t have to wait long before Haru’s impassive face appeared in the crack between the door and the jamb.

“Rin,” he said flatly, by way of greeting. It wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t inviting. My blood caught fire again as I pushed past him into the small kitchen and rounded on him. I could feel my blood pounding in my ears as I tried to maintain some kind of composure and failed.

“How could you do this to him?” I asked, incredulously. “How could you hurt your  _best friend_ like that?” I could feel my hands start to shake in anger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Haru, impassively. He had the nerve, the  _gall_ to look me dead in the eye as he said that.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Haruka,” I said, slowly, carefully. I saw his eyes light up in dreaded recognition. My stomach clenched, and I could feel my fingertips tingling.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said quietly and without emotion, his eyes dropping to the floor, turning his head away from me.

“You’re right. You did nothing. Nothing to make anything right with Makoto, nothing to make him feel wanted or accepted, nothing to put his mind at ease when he was in doubt. Nothing to make him feel valued, nothing to make him feel  _loved_ ,” I said coldly, forgetting my promise to myself to remain calm. “He poured himself out to you, he bared you his soul. He gave you his heart, and you gave him  _nothing_ .” I finished the sentence with venom, my volume rising with my anger. Haru simply turned away, silent.

“You can’t run away from this, Haruka. You can’t turn away and pretend like it never existed,” I said. When he still refused to speak, I snapped. “Goddamn it, Haru! Say something for yourself! Fucking  _SAY SOMETHING!”_ I grabbed his shoulder, turning him around to yell in his face properly, and was met with his fist. The punch glanced off my jaw, but pain still blossomed rapidly where he’d hit me. My right fist flashed out, hooking across and landing on his cheek, sending him sprawling to the floor. I shook out my fist, panting from the pain both in my hand and my jaw. I opened my mouth widely, shifting my jaw side to side to make sure nothing was overly damaged. Satisfied, I turned to the door.

“What you did to him was inexcusable,” I said quietly, dangerously. “How dare you hurt him? All he ever did was love you.” I opened the door and turned back to face Haru, still on the floor, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Don’t go looking for him. Don’t call him. Don’t try to contact him. He’s better off without you.” I shut the door with what felt like ringing finality.

On the way back to my apartment, I texted Makoto at a traffic light.

_stay @ my place tonite, i have spare clothes u can borrow. theres sumthing i want 2 talk 2 u about._

Makoto’s response was simply “ _k_ ”, and that immediately set me to thinking. Did he just wake up? Is he still worried about everything? Did I scare him? I sighed, and pulled away as the light turned green, making a detour to pick up some breakfast food for my rather empty fridge.

As I got out of the elevator on my floor and opened the door to my apartment, Makoto was shuffling around my kitchen looking rather rumpled from sleep, rummaging through cupboards. I smiled, happy that he hadn’t been too worried that I was gone this morning, but my small smile faltered when I actually saw Makoto. He had gone from being lithe and lean to a thin spectre of who he had been, his shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, his borrowed pajama pants barely holding onto his too-small waist. I realized what he was looking for at that moment, forgetting about his propensity for routines he himself wasn’t aware of.

“The teapot is in the cupboard just to the right of the stove, the tea is in the jar on the counter,” I tell him without being prompted, and get a slightly bashful smile in return. What I wasn’t expecting was Makoto’s sharp statement that followed.

“You went over there, didn’t you?” His voice wasn’t accusing, but the query was still somewhat pointed. He looked at me with sad green eyes, looking utterly drained.

“I did,” I volunteer carefully. I didn’t know how much I ought to tell him at that moment, so I tried to steer the conversation onto a slightly different course. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I think I might have an idea of how to get you back on track.” This pronouncement shocked Makoto enough into dropping the lid from the tea jar onto the counter with a loud clatter in the stillness of the apartment. He braced himself with shaking hands on the edge of the worktop, clearly fighting tears.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly. “This is my mess, I’m the one that should have to fix it.” He turned back and fixed me with his watery green gaze. I went to him, and took one of his trembling hands in mine.

“No, Mako. You don’t have to be the one to fix this, but I’ll need your help. You’ve never known when to actually ask for help, and that’s why you’re here. I want to do this for you, but I’ll only do it if you’ll let me. Now, you go sit down and let me worry about the tea.”

Makoto smiled weakly, and went to the kitchen table as I filled the kettle and put it on the stove. It wasn’t until I pressed a cup into his cold hands that I turned my attention to the neat bundle of paper on my desk. I brought it out to him, and started to explain my ideas for him.

“Alright, so I think the first thing we should accomplish is to find you a new apartment, away from him. All of the ones I’ve looked into are in a different area of the city, so that might mean you’d need a new job. I know you’ve got a car, so that’s not a really big deal, but I think I might have a few connections that could get you something you’d enjoy more than what you’re doing now. In the meantime, though, until you’ve found your own place, you can stay with me as long as you like. I’ve also reached out to Nagisa and Rei, who I know you haven’t seen in ages, but they’re on board for helping you too.” As I explained the various points of my approach, Makoto was silent the entire time, looking utterly unsure of the whole prospect.

“Rin, this is too much,” he said quietly, hands wringing in his lap again like they had at the bar the night before. “Are you sure you’re okay with all this? I don’t want to be a burden and didn’t mean to impose.”

“You’re never a burden,” I said gently, but firmly. “Besides, if I weren’t okay with this, why would I be doing it now? You’re my best friend, Makoto, and I never want to see you hurt like this again. You’re far too good a person to be treated like this, and this is the least I can do.” Memories of our rift during high school surfaced again, and my resolve was cemented. Makoto’s face blushed pink as he looked at me again.

“Well, my boss did say to take a few days off, said I looked like hell yesterday,” he said slowly. “If you’re absolutely sure…” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable.

“I am,” I said, resolute. “Now drink your tea, I’ll make breakfast. You still like scrambled eggs, right?”

"Yeah," he said. "Also, in the future, don't take your car to go out for a run." I looked over at him in shock to see a small, wry smile on his face. I just _tisk_ ed and went back to cooking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry not sorry. I'm gonna go sit on the naughty stool and not think about what i've done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Makoto meets someone at work.

Chapter Four

Makoto

“You’ll be OK to close up tonight, Makoto-kun?” my new boss asked me, his tone light as he pulled his coat on by the door. “I doubt it’ll be busy, but you know the drill. Just make sure everything gets shut off except the pilots on the tube gear. I forgot to the other night and I’m fearing the electricity bill next month,” he said, his face grim but wryly amused at his gaffe. I smiled with him.

“No worries there, Ishida-san. You’re right, it probably won’t be too busy,” I said, confident in his assessment. “I figured I would do some vacuuming and the dusting tonight too, just to get it out of the way.”

“Don’t get too wrapped up in it, now,” Ishida-san chided gently. “Last week you got so involved you were almost an hour late leaving. While I appreciate the dedication, surely you must have other things to do besides work.” He laughed then, and I could feel myself blush.

“I’m sorry for that,” I offered, still feeling embarrassed about losing track of time like that. Ishida-san holds up a hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone gets a little carried away sometimes. I’m glad you chose to do so at work. Remind me to thank Rin-kun again for recommending you for the position!” With that and a cheery farewell wave, Ishida-san made his way out of the small audio shop and to his car.

 

After leaving Haru and I’s apartment to stay with Rin for a while, Rin pushed me to the interview at Ishida Sound, knowing somehow that I’d do well there. And I’m still not too proud to say he’d been right about it. I’d been working for Ishida-san for about three months now, and was feeling the happiest and most fulfilled I’d ever been in a job. Being the only other employee, Ishida-san placed far more trust in me than I had originally realized.

The shop wasn’t big by any means, a simple storefront on a fairly busy street in a rather affluent neighbourhood in the city. The two front windows had small audio systems set up with special prices, and upon entering, the shop nearly bombarded customers with some very high-end audio gear. As soon as I had walked in for my interview I had to consciously pick my jaw up from the floor and Ishida-san had simply chuckled.

“Well, I can already tell that you know what kind of place this is, young man,” he said, by way of greeting. It took me a second for my brain to start working again, and even longer for me to form coherent sentences.

“Absolutely, sir. This… this is an incredible store! How have I never seen it before? I could get lost for hours,” I said, in embarrassingly reverent tones. Brands I had only ever read about in foreign publications were represented _en masse_ , millions of yen in inventory simply laid out for anyone to touch, see, experience. Statement pieces next to best-selling consumer gear, turntables crafted like fine Swiss watches placed carefully on shelves, begging to play just one more record, loudspeakers lined up in neat rows, and power amplifiers with their faces glowing ready to fill the space with music. “I… don’t know what to say.”

“And that says just about all I need to know,” stated Ishida-san, with a knowing smile. “But first, please allow me to ask you a few more questions, Tachibana-san.” The use of my name startled me from my daydreams, and I flushed. Of course he knew who I was, Rin had told him I was coming. And I’d made such a dork out of myself during what was essentially a job interview.

“Ah! Please forgive me, Ishida-sama! I didn’t mean to trail off like that!” I hurried to explain myself; holding my hands up in front of myself and feeling my face redden with embarrassment for having gotten so distracted. “I was just so taken with your shop,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck and struggling to meet his amused gaze.

"Not to worry, Tachibana-san. I’m glad you like it,” Ishida-san said, kindly. “Come, take a seat, and let’s discuss your desire to work in my humble establishment.” He lead the way to a small table and chairs and sat, inviting me to do the same. On the table there was a tiny vase with a single daisy standing proud in it. Ishida-san sat with his hands folded and legs crossed, facing me. “I see Rin-kun was right about you,” he said, somewhat cryptically.

"W-what do you mean?” I asked, feeling suddenly nervous under his sharp, inquisitive stare. I sat rigidly upright in the chair, my back ramrod-straight and my hands sweating where they were on my thighs.

“He had told me you were into audio, but so many young people say that these days,” he said with a sigh. “I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’re a pleasant surprise. It’s not often to find someone of your age with such a developed passion for sound.” His face breaks into a fond smile. “I hear you have previous sales experience.”

“Ah! Yes, I do,” I said. “It isn’t audio-related though, and even though I have a lot to learn I’m definitely confident that I can do it!” Ishida-san chuckled, and leaned back into his chair.

“As am I.”

 

I reflected on that conversation with a fond smile of my own, as I had many times before when I thought about how lucky I was to have such an amazing job. Ishida-san was a pretty easy man to work for, as long as duties were performed as they were expected to be. Amplifiers and pre-amplifiers in the statement systems were to be warmed up first thing after opening, and coffee was to be brewed for any of the early customers of the day. The store was to be kept free of dust, and fingerprints were to be carefully cleaned from any glossy surface. The day’s demonstration material was to be selected from the store’s considerable library, and one was expected to be familiar with the reasons for its selection. I had spent many evenings after work with Ishida-san’s recommended demo material, trying to figure out exactly why he’d had me listen to it, and what I would have customers listen for, and coming back with suggestions of my own.

The past week, Ishida-san had me go through the shop’s inventory and make that month’s window display.

“I want something that will draw people into the store, that’s accessible for just about everyone and that would tempt people your age to rediscover their music,” had been Ishida-san’s only directive. I took it and ran with it. Ishida-san had left for the night as I was setting it up, and when I came in to work a couple of days later, he congratulated me on my selections.

“I have never had so much foot traffic, we’ve already sold a dozen of your displays!” he’d exclaimed, and clapped me hard on the shoulder as I smiled sheepishly. It was this display that brought in the only customer of the night after Ishida-san left, as I was just dusting off a pair of piano-black speakers.

 

I heard the bell over the door tinkle merrily as a tall, red-headed fellow strolled in, hands in the pockets of a black tailored pea coat with the collar turned up slightly against the wind. His hair was slightly windblown, and his reddened cheeks gave light to his face, telling of the chill in the late summer evening’s air. His jeans were not quite a slim fit, but cut an attractive line for his long legs, capped off with clean but worn  sneakers.

“Ah, hello! What can I do for you?” I asked, smiling at the customer as he looked around the store, slightly overwhelmed.

“I’d heard from a friend that you had a special on for a music system,” he said. “Is it the one in the window there?” He pointed at the display, _my_ display. His eyes were a curiously bright sort-of golden colour, brought to life by the broad, genuine smile on his face.

“Yes, that’s the one we have featured in this month’s circular,” I said, crossing the room to drop my dusting cloth on the desk and to take a flyer from the pile next to the computer. “Bundled as it is, it presents an appreciable savings over the pieces as sold individually. We also have a number of options for it, depending on your needs. What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he began slowly. “I don’t really know a whole lot about this stuff, but I was recently given a lot of vinyl records from my parents and grandparents, who don’t really have the time to listen to that kind of stuff any more. I really like the music, but I don’t have a way to play it so I figured I’d buy a little system to get me started.” He trailed off, looking slightly sheepish.

"How do you listen to music now, if you don’t mind me asking?” His face turned contrite as he pulled his phone from his coat pocket, and I nodded understandingly. “Not to worry! If there’s anything on there that you want to listen to, we can make it work with just about anything and everything in this store.”

“You know, I’ve never even heard a vinyl record before, let alone played one. I don’t even know how to do it,” he says quietly, his eyes downcast.

“What was one of the records you were given? Maybe we have a copy in the store,” I offered. “Most people have forgotten about vinyl, what with CDs and MP3s you can carry in your pocket, but what I find most appealing about playing a record is the _experience_. It’s so much more than just pressing play and listening to it. I personally love getting up to flip the album every twenty minutes, and the sound is just so much more _present_ , so tactile. Ah, sorry for prattling on like that,” I said, realizing I’d been talking way too much as I walked the pair of us over to Ishida-san’s music collection. He brushed my babbling off with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, most of that went right over my head,” he said, passing a hand over his head to demonstrate. “But I think you know what you’re talking about, even if most of it sounded like Greek to me.” I felt myself blush at the indirect compliment.

“So, uh, see anything you like?” I said, gesturing weakly to the sprawling shelf of music.

“Yup,” he said, not really looking at the music, and pulled out an album, brushing his hand along mine as he did so. “This is my mom’s absolute favourite album,” he said, fondness in his voice. “I heard it so many times growing up.”

“Then it’s a great choice,” I said. “Music you’re most familiar with is the best to use when listening to new equipment. Oh! I’m Tachibana Makoto, by the way.” I realized I hadn’t introduced myself yet, with another embarrassed pang. He just smiled.

“Mikoshiba Seijuurou, pleased to meet you.” He held his hand out, and I shook it. His grip was firm, his palm warm and soft. He lingered, his hand in mine for longer than was strictly necessary and I felt colour creeping up my neck.

“Well, let’s get this on the platter then, Mikoshiba-sama,” I said, pulling my hand from the warmth of his somewhat reluctantly. He handed me the record, a Western album I’m familiar with but don’t really understand thanks to the language barrier. As I lead him to one of the listening rooms, I pulled the record from its sleeve, set it on the platter of the record player and brought the tonearm out and lowered it manually, carefully, into the lead-in groove of the second track. I bid him sit in one of the squashy armchairs in front of the demo system identical to the window display, and waited for the music to start.

From the moment the hi-hat hissed and the electric bass slid down into the acoustic guitar introduction, Mikoshiba’s eyes lit up. The singer’s voice was rich and dark in tone, flowing liquidly from the speakers. The bass drum was impactful, and the music cruised along at a steady groove. When the full rhythm section joined in, Mikoshiba was visibly struggling. Eventually, as the song finished, I slowly lowered the volume.

“What did you think?” I asked quietly, regaining my own poise during the demonstration. I waited patiently as Mikoshiba composed himself.

“I’ve never heard that song sound like that. Ever.” His voice was a little wobbly, but emphatic. “That was amazing. I heard things I never knew were there, so subtle but there.” He looked at me, his golden eyes suddenly misty. “Do all vinyl records sound like this?” The goosebumps on his arms lingered.

 

An hour and a half later, Mikoshiba Seijuurou was signing delivery papers.

“This is just our confirmation for delivery. What time works best for you, Mikoshiba-sama?” I pointed to one of the last sections on the information I had printed out for him.

"You know, there’s no need to be so formal. Please, just call me Seijuurou,” he requested, smiling and looking at me through his eyelashes as he leaned over the forms.

“Then I ask that you call me Makoto in return,” I insisted. “Does Wednesday, around 4:30 in the afternoon meet your needs?” He checked the calendar in his phone.

“Yes, that works perfectly, actually. I should be finishing up work about an hour earlier, gives me something to look forward to when I get home,” he said, excited. “But I have one last request.”

“Yes, is there anything specific you require?”

“I want you to deliver it and set it up yourself, if you don’t mind.” He straightened, his eyes boring into mine, his voice quiet, liquid, velvet.

"It’s a little unorthodox, but I can definitely do that for you if you like,” I said, somewhat wrong-footed, my stomach doing little flips at the prospect.

“I would, very much.” His voice had dropped to a level barely above a whisper, sending my face into a furious blush. “I’d also like to make you dinner, if you wouldn’t mind.”           

“Yes, I mean, no, not at all,” I stuttered. “Wednesday’s my day off, so that leaves us plenty of time for us to get things up… I mean, set up and running,” I fumbled, hoping Seijuurou hadn’t noticed. His little wink told me he had as he signed the last of the purchase order.           

“Then I look forward to Wednesday even more,” he said with a private half-smile as he slipped out of the shop. I looked back at the clock, it was half an hour past closing.

“Damn! Ishida-san is gonna have my hide for being late again!” I said out loud, as I hurried to shut everything down in the store for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist some audio porn, and there will likely be more. I like the idea of Makoto as a hi-fi salesman (which plays nicely into my own past work experience, hon hon hon) and Seijuurou as a budding music lover. The next chapter will be fun.


End file.
